


Big Moments

by Foot_Tapper



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foot_Tapper/pseuds/Foot_Tapper
Summary: A look at Whistler’s life with references to S2 and S3 of BtVS and S5 of AtS.





	Big Moments

Big Moments

 

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel: the Series  
Pairing: None  
Rating: General Audiences  
Summary: A look at Whistler’s life with references to S2 and S3 of BtVS and S5 of AtS  
Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me – I’m just borrowing them!

* I wrote this in 2007.

 

_“No-one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So, what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.”_

_\- Whistler, ‘Becoming Part I’_

 

**CHAPTER 1:**

Whistler couldn’t remember when he discovered his calling. At least he couldn’t remember what happened before he woke up in a room with a vaulted ceiling and marble finishing. He remembered struggling to his feet with the mother of all headaches and coming face to face with two people: one man and one woman. They had gold skin and a cold stare. Whistler also remembered the conversation they had and really, that was all that mattered ………..

Whistler stumbled back, out of reach rubbing his head, “What the hell happened? Where am I, and who are you?”

The female walked forward and looked him over curiously, “I think he will do. He looks human enough, yet he is demon enough to mix in with those that only come out at night.”

Whistler wanted to think he’d been kidnapped by a couple of weirdos that spent their days in fancy dress but seeing the female close up, he realised that she was no ordinary being and neither was her partner in crime. 

The male spoke sternly, “You will begin at once. We have lost many allies and must make haste in repairing the damage the dark ones have made.”

Whistler threw his hands up in defence, “OK, everybody just back up for one second!   
Allies and _dark ones?_ Will somebody just tell me what’s going on here and why the two of you have brought a whole new meaning to the Midas touch?”

The two gold skinned beings looked at one another, then looked at Whistler to gauge his reaction. Whistler was losing his patience and violence was something they would not allow in their chamber.

Carefully, the female explained, “We are the Oracles. We are governed by The Powers-That-Be and we are their link to the other dimensions. For centuries, the Powers have chosen souls which link the worlds together to form an alliance which will in turn fight against the dark ones. You have been chosen to breach the gap between the human and demon worlds. You have been called.”

Whistler simply stared at the female Oracle with his mouth forming a small ‘O’. The male Oracle was growing tired of Whistler’s reluctance to comply, continuing forcefully, “You do _know_ of your demonology? You do _know_ what strengths you could bring in the fight against evil?” The mention of the word ‘demon’ brought Whistler to his senses.

“Demon-what? Hey, I had a normal mother and a father who was… gone a lot, and I don’t have any scales or slimy parts! I really think you have the wrong guy which is fine by me because this whole deal is freaking me out.” 

Whistler stepped back further, wanting to distance himself from the Oracles – or whatever they were calling themselves – as much as possible.

Confused, the female Oracle turned to her brother, “Surely it cannot be true? That he knows nothing of his demon origins? The Powers would not choose a being without preparation, without a sense of belonging to both worlds?”

The male Oracle shook his head in disbelief and turned once more to Whistler.

“Your father was a Teso demon, taken from the Italian word ‘frainteso’ meaning ‘misunderstood’. Teso demons are cursed with talking either in rhyme or riddle, sometimes making no sense, sometimes enlightening souls to their destiny. The test is whether to believe the Teso or disregard his talk as nonsense. Your father was probably ‘gone a lot’ as you say because he was enlightening those who needed to see their path. You must now do the same.”

Whistler’s head was spinning, “I need to sit down,” he said hurriedly, knees buckling. As he slid towards the floor, a chair appeared out of nowhere and he collapsed into it. He stared up at the gold beings in dismay, “You want me to guide people who have lost their way? Help them to the heroes’ side of things? I don’t think I’m up to this. I’ve never been an inspiration to anybody – isn’t there anyone else who can do it?”

The female Oracle shook her head, “No. You have been called. This is not a request. Your first charge is waiting for you – although they do not know it yet.”

 

**CHAPTER 2:**

And that was how it began. Whistler hadn’t been entirely successful in the beginning. It simply wasn’t possible to steer everyone to the right path – for some, the dark side would always be a stronger force to them – but as the years had gone by, Whistler managed to get more ticks than crosses on his list and he was satisfied that he was doing the very best he could.

Each person or demon came to him in a dream, telling him no more than his or her location and a name. Whistler would then have to do some detective work and gradually the gift within him would reveal that charge’s past. It wasn’t an easy experience. His demonic curse meant that sometimes he gave advice not really knowing if he was telling them nonsense. He felt however, that in most cases, he was telling the truth even when the recipient didn’t always come to the right conclusion.

In 1996, he had a dream about a dark haired man in an alley, desperately trying to fend off hunger. This was no ordinary hunger - the man drank the blood of rats while yearning for the human elixir. Here was a man consumed by the demon inside of him and yet fighting to fit into a world which rejected him.

By this time, Whistler had ended up in Manhattan and meeting Angel should have been a highlight. Seeing the once-great demon rotting in that alley, however, was a disappointment to say the least. _This_ was the prospective new Champion? It had taken what seemed like _forever_ for the two of them to get to Los Angeles but the long trip had been worth it. Angel had taken one look at Buffy Summers and his whole world had changed. Not only had he fallen in love for the first time but at last he had chosen his path and found a purpose.

As with all things fated, Whistler had learnt too late of the curse and the return of Angelus. People aligned with the slayer and many others besides had been hurt or killed by the vampire and his English sidekicks, Spike and Drusilla. By the time Whistler arrived, Sunnydale was already in danger of becoming dust, along with the rest of the world. It hurt him deeply to have to tell the slayer that the sooner she killed Angel, the better.

Angel had been one of his successes. Now Angel was a traitor with a destiny that had surprised Whistler. He had dreamt of Acathla and the part Angel had to play but this was not what he had seen. His dream had led him to believe that Spike would capture Angel to open Acathla but that Angel would use his own blood to close the vortex. 

Despite the blood loss, in Whistler’s dream, Angel had fed off Buffy to live again. He had not envisioned this carnage, and he would not know until much later that his dream had been a combination of what was present and what was to come.

 

**CHAPTER 3:**

When Whistler left Sunnydale, he had believed his work was done. Buffy was on her way to either killing Angel or becoming dust herself along with every other sorry soul on the planet. If the latter was the case, he really didn’t have much to worry about. There was nowhere to run. He would meet his fate just like everybody else. If Buffy was successful, he might be sent to put another hero on the right path to replace the hole left by Angel. Either way, a huge burger and fries was sounding very tempting as he made his way through the town.

It was while he was sitting on the bench outside the burger joint that he had a vision. It was the first time that he had a vision while awake and he was disconcerted. The vision showed him something he couldn’t fathom. It was a dark alley. Angel was there along with a vampire he knew to be Spike and they were joined by a black man and a blue demon. And it was raining.

 

**CHAPTER 4:**

_There has to be something better than this to do in life,_ Whistler thought as he stood in the alley getting soaked as the rain poured down. Years had gone by and only today had he seen the vision of the wet alley again and known what it meant.

There had been no time to reach Angel. No time to question his chosen path or warn against it. No time to reach any being that could stop him. Buffy, Faith, even Willow at this juncture would have been helpful but it was not meant to be. The Powers-That-Be had sent him to witness the fallout from Angel’s attack on the Black Thorn.

Whistler wasn’t entirely sure why he was there, just that he _had_ to be there. No questions asked.

And so, he watched from the darkness of the alley as Angel arrived, followed by Spike. It was strange to see them together, fighting on the same side. The good side. Not for the first time, he questioned the wisdom of the Powers as the severely injured man known as Gunn arrived, along with the blue demon, Illyria.

Within moments, the attack from the demons began and Whistler shrank back into the far corners to avoid being seen. The heroes held their own for a long time and the dragon was in pieces before Angel finally fell. As his dust rained down on those below, Spike roared as he too joined his brother in arms. Gunn’s life had been the first to be extinguished and while Illyria clearly believed her life would be taken next, a bright light shone down on the streets of Los Angeles. The remaining demons were blinded and screamed in pain. They turned on each other and within an hour most were dead while the others wisely slipped away into the returning darkness.

It was then that Whistler knew why he had been sent to the alley.

Slowly he approached the only other living being left in the alley. Illyria turned to look at him and cocked her head to one side as if trying to determine whether to kill him or not.

“Hey there, Illyria” he said warily. “I’m er… one of the good guys so don’t kill me, okay? I just saw one of my old pals bite the dust – literally – and I’d kinda like to get out of here.”

Illyria looked at him steadily, “I want to know who you are.”

“And I want to know who _you_ are” Whistler replied.

“You already know who I am – you said my name.”

“Well, I don’t know you quite yet. But I’m looking to find out – ‘cause you could go either way here.” said Whistler, wondering if he would ever tell Illyria that this conversation was very familiar.

Illyria frowned at him but did not turn away. “I don’t understand you.” she said, leaning towards him slightly.

“Nobody understands me. That’s my curse.”

“Your curse?” Illyria asked as she fell into step with him.

“Yeah, it’s a long story and right now, you and I have better places to be.” He gestured forwards.

“Let’s take a walk”.


End file.
